


The Railway Man

by edgy_fluffball



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eating Fish In Public Places, Edinburgh Festival Season, Fluff, Gavroche Has A Cameo, M/M, Railway Shenanigans, travelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-18 01:23:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16107842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edgy_fluffball/pseuds/edgy_fluffball
Summary: Enjolras had his trip planned to the tee, shielding wall between himself and everybody else included. Until he needs to tear it down to make room for the latecomer who seems to have no respect for social boundaries.





	The Railway Man

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt my dear @nevermore-plutonianshore gave me that has Enjolras and Grantaire meet on a train.  
> I enjoyed writing this a lot and hope you have fun with it as well!

Enjolras had everything perfectly planned out. The whole journey would take about six hours and he had both food and books to entertain him throughout. He even had arrived early to block the seat next to the one he had booked to ensure he had some space for himself to work at. There was so much to do before he could even think about his holidays, he had brought a few papers and letters he needed to take a look at and he hoped to finish within the six hours he had until the train would call at Edinburgh Waverly Station. The carriage was still mostly empty with about twenty minutes until the train was scheduled to leave. He enjoyed the near silence he got before the last rush of commuters and weekend travellers arrived and claimed their seats in a wild rush of screams and demanding voices. Enjolras did not fare well with demanding.

The stampede arrived five minutes before their departure. Men in suits filed into the carriage and stashed their briefcases away before sitting down and opening their newspapers. Enjolras had worn suits, he owned a briefcase but he would never in a million years be caught with a newspaper on the train. Fortunately, no one came even close to the fortress he had built himself with his bag, coat and books, and even if they did, his glares had proved to be quite efficient in the past.

There was a little bit of a kerfuffle at one of the doors as a young man jumped into the carriage and tried to squeeze his suitcase onto the already packed rack at the entrance. He seemed a little breathless, as if he had sprinted down the platform which – Enjolras noted that the train began to move – seemed almost realistic. His hair was windswept and covered most of his face. An unflattering sound escaped him as he tried to blow a few strands out of his eyes before he turned and started to walk along the aisle, checking the numbered seats for one in particular, probably in search of the one he had booked. Enjolras watched as he stopped next to a seat a few rows in front of where he sat. He seemed to focus on something in the seats before breaking out into a fond smile, shrugging, turning around and walking onwards. Towards Enjolras.

‘Hi, sorry, is this seat taken?’ he nodded towards the seat next to Enjolras, the fortress that had been perfectly set up for a six hour train ride, ‘It’s just that the seat I booked and I can’t chase them away.’

Enjolras sighed and started to move his papers, travel mug, books, pens, prepared homemade sandwiches, laptop, messenger bag, phone charger, crisps, apple slices and water bottle, one thing after the other. A part of him hoped the guy would just move on, find another seat and not pester him into making room in the little space he already had occupied. He pushed a lot of it into his bag and shoved that under the seat in front of him, leaving his laptop on the small table.

‘I’m sorry,’ he slipped into the seat next to him, ‘there really isn’t another seat.’

‘Don’t fret,’ Enjolras shrugged and scooted closer to the window, ‘I’ll try not to spread out to much.’

‘So you’re a spreader,’ the other one smirked, ‘don’t worry, you can take up as much space as you need. Sorry for breaking up the wall you put up between yourself and the world. I’m Grantaire, by the way. Might as well introduce myself, if we are to spend a few hours on this train, right?’

‘Enjolras. And I’m working,’ he knew he was being rude but he had not had enough coffee to deal with a chatterbox seated next to him, a chatterbox that held a dirty hand out for him to shake.

No, not dirty, he corrected himself, as he took in the dark edges around his nails. That looked more like paint than dirt. Even better, Enjolras thought, an artist, probably on his way to the festival. It seemed like his curt response had scared him off, though. _Grantaire_ had begun to unpack his own back. A thin sweat film made his face gleam a little as he got a tablet, ear buds and a plastic wrapped station store sandwich out of his bag. Enjolras was about to tell him that the food sold at train stations was wrapped in enough plastic to cover at least three of them which produced even more litter which at least half of the people who bought them didn’t throw away, when Grantaire opened the package. The smell of something fishy and mayonnaise filled the carriage, making Enjolras scrunch up his face in disgust. Fish and mayonnaise on a means of public transport were about as welcome to Enjolras as counter protesters at the rallies he had organised.

Grantaire seemed to have sensed his discomfort. He briefly looked to the side and winced at the sour expression on Enjolras’ face, but continued unwrapping the sandwich.

‘I’m sorry, this was the last they had in the shop,’ he chuckled, a helpless sound almost lost against the rattling of the train engines and the wheels against the rails, ‘I hate fish.’

He all but wolfed down the sandwich with the desperation of a truly hungry traveller. Enjolras decided to let it slip and rely on angry glares only, not to launch the rant he had first prepared during his first year at university. It seemed uncalled for, even if the smell of fish would surround them for a little longer until the air conditioning took care of it. The positive side, he told himself, was that he would not have to suffer through more of it, the squished sandwich seemed to have been everything Grantaire had brought. The lunch did not seem very satisfying, Enjolras saw how Grantaire twisted his mouth. The small voice in the back of his mind sneered, that’s what he would get for eating a fish sandwich on a train.

Grantaire seemed to have finished his lunch, he folded the plastic wrapping neatly and opened the small trash can between their seats to dispose of it. At least that, Enjolras breathed with relief.

The train rattled through the English landscape, leaving behind villages, lakes and towns. For the first time in weeks, they did not have heavy rain and he was trapped in a metal box on the way to Scotland for his holidays with somebody who could possibly be an artist who ate fish sandwiches whilst being trapped in a metal box with other people.

He returned to his papers, various letters that needed spellchecking and accounts. By the time the train stopped the next time, Enjolras had gotten used to the presence of another person next to him. The stench of processed fish had subsided and he could enjoy the coffee in his travel mug a little more than before. Grantaire had given up the attempts to make small talk with him and concentrated on what he was working on instead. His pen swiped over the display, forming lines and silhouettes. Enjolras could prop up his foot against the seat in front of him, lean against the armrest in between the seats and read his book in peace and silence.

It was only at one of the next turnouts, as the train tottered a little to get onto the new track that he realised that there was another possible explanation for the comfortable silence he had enjoyed. Grantaire’s head flopped to the side, onto his shoulder and further down, until he leaned on Enjolras’ shoulder. His anger resurfaced, burning deep in his chest. The huffed out breath he omitted should have waken Grantaire up since it send his head bouncing. He did not and Enjolras could not help but wonder what this guy was up to. He turned his head to peak at Grantaire and hopefully get the chance to jostle him awake.

Grantaire’s closed eyes were embedded deeply in their sockets. The thin skin over them did little to hide just how dark the circles around them were. Enjolras was almost sure that his eyes would be bloodshot when he opened them again. Beyond the obvious sleep deprivation, however, Enjolras noticed the clear lines in the face resting against his shoulder. Grantaire’s brows were swept in an anxious arch, coming together in the firm bridge of his nose. His dark hair had fallen into his face again, curls obstructing Enjolras’ view on his seatmate. Despite the rushed entrance, fish stench and using him as a pillow, Enjolras felt his anger recede. Grantaire looked like he needed the sleep and Enjolras decided to allow him the grace of a few minutes of uninterrupted rest.

He could lean a little against Grantaire in order to stabilise both of them as he turned a page and continued to read about the influence of offshore jobs on the modern understanding of employment and job security. His boss had not even explained why he should read the exemplary dry text. Sometimes, Enjolras second-guessed his decision to read whatever was suggested to him. Thanks to a library card, he did not have to buy every book, he would have wasted a lot of money on unsatisfying reads.

He got through two chapters before a pressing problem made itself slowly known to him. His bladder reminded him of the two coffees he had drunk at home before setting off to the station and the third cup which he had drunk on the train. Of course he would need the restroom at some point during a six hour train ride, however, he had not planned to have a full grown man cuddle up on him after the first stop. What made the situation even trickier was how much Grantaire seemed to deserve to sleep. Enjolras stole another glance at him and sighed with despair, the sound echoing through his chest where his anger had been burning before.

He accepted the fact that he would have to pee in a bottle, settled back against Grantaire and lifted his book back up. Reading about employment issues on his way into the holidays seemed to get easier with Grantaire’s hair tickling his neck as he started a chapter on job security in outsourced sectors.

A coffee cart was pushed down the aisle, ‘Would you like a cup of tea or coffee?’

A young woman in a simple uniform smiled down on them. Enjolras cleared his throat and contemplated nudging Grantaire but having decided that he would let him sleep, he could not bring himself to follow through on the thought.

‘I’ll have a coffee, thank you,’ he knew that he was about to make a huge mistake, ‘black, please.’

He fumbled for his wallet, pulling it out of his pocket. The motion had Grantaire slip down his chest, Enjolras reached out to stop him from falling and gently guided him back to his shoulder, tangling his fingers in the dark, thick curls for a moment. They were softer than he had anticipated.

‘Your coffee,’ the young woman smiled, ‘and one on me for the boyfriend when he wakes up. You guys are so cute!’

She beamed at him as she handed him a second cup of coffee. Enjolras took it without protesting or pointing out her false assumption because he was a little shit and would not turn down free coffee, given that caffeine made up one half of the fuel he ran on. Who would sue him for accepting and drinking it on Grantaire’s behalf?

The young service girl continued to go down the aisle, handing out cups of coffee left and right. Enjolras drank the first of the coffees and the other one once she had left the carriage. Where his mind returned to full awareness, however, his bladder demanded he leave his seat and seek the restroom almost immediately after he finished the second cup. Even a change of position, crossing his legs and leaning forward did not help, so eventually he gently shook Grantaire awake.

‘Mh?’ Grantaire blinked his eyes open and wiped at his face, ‘Did I fall asleep?’

Enjolras grinned against his will, ‘You did. Which is alright, you can get back to it in a minute but I need the restroom and I couldn’t climb out over you.’

Grantaire’s expression changed slowly, warping from half-asleep and barely able to process what Enjolras told him to overzealous to make room for him to pass by. His cheeks were tinted a little pink, something Enjolras ascribed to him having slept deeply. He looked soft and warm with an imprint of Enjolras’ hoodie seams on the side of his face.

‘Do you want to –‘

‘Yes, thank you!’ Enjolras scrambled to his feet and made to slip past Grantaire, ‘Thank you!’

He hurried down the aisle. As he passed by the seat Grantaire had so intently stared at, he could finally understand why. A small boy, probably less than ten years old, was curled in on himself, leaning against the window with his feet propped up on the neighbouring seat. He took up the whole double-seat sleeping. There was a ribbon around his neck that held a sign reading ‘ _Name: Gavroche. Heading to: Edinburgh. Please look after me_.’ Between the two sleeping travellers Enjolras had come across, the boy took the cake. He slipped into the narrow restroom to take care of his pressing business.

He had not expected to find Grantaire browsing through the book he had brought along, propped up against the armrest only to look up at him with a devious smirk. He was definitely more awake.

‘So, Enjolras,’ he lingered on his name a little too long for Enjolras to feel comfortable, ‘did you really tell the poor service girl we were a couple to get free coffee?’

Enjolras felt his cheeks redden as he stammered to find a response to this. How did he find out about that?

‘She came back down here whilst you were gone, asked me whether it helped me wake up,’ Grantaire still grinned up at him.

‘I’m sorry,’ Enjolras started, ‘I should have – she meant it to be yours –‘

‘No, no, stop! It’s ingenious, I’ll have to try that some time! Free coffee because what? Sleeping guy looks cute?’

‘I think it was her believing us to be a couple that got us the free coffee. Well, me,’ Enjolras sat back down and took the book Grantaire held out for him, ‘Did you sleep alright?’

‘Very comfortable,’ Grantaire smiled at him, ‘I have to apologise tough, I did not get much sleep last night.’

‘Long night?’

‘Not in the sense I would have liked it to be,’ Grantaire sighed, ‘I’m an artist and I had to meet a deadline this morning so I worked through the night. I’m on my way up to Edinburgh for the festivals.’

‘Same,’ Enjolras smiled, ‘I finally got some days off work and I hope to enjoy a few days with some shows, readings and plays.’

‘What do you do?’

‘I review books. I had a streak of non-fiction work recently and it has been a little trying,’ he nodded towards the book in his hands.

‘You are working on the way to your holidays? Mate, someone needs to explain to you how holidays work!’ Grantaire looked scandalised and considered Enjolras’ book with something closely resembling disgust, ‘Put that in your bag and enjoy the landscape. You won’t calm down and relax, if you keep working like you’re getting paid for it!’

Enjolras had to admit that Grantaire was right, he would not be paid for what he got done until after his return to London. He threw him a telling glance before he put the book down and into his bag.

‘There you go, I’m not working. What should I do instead?’

Grantaire checked his watch, ‘We still have three hours until Scotland. You could take a look out of the window or you could get to know the seatmate that will be here for the next three hours.’

After that, Enjolras found the conversation to flow on his own. Grantaire had a few stories about the festivals he had attended and about the work he did there, whilst Enjolras could provide some reviews for books Grantaire had on his to-read list.

‘Do you know your way around Edinburgh?’ Grantaire asked when they reached Newcastle, interrupting a moment of shared silence between the two.

‘No, I’m going for the first time,’ Enjolras smiled weakly, ‘I’ve heard so much about if from friends and colleagues that I decided to go and see for myself.’

‘Listen, I don’t want to impose or anything,’ Grantaire cleared his throat, ‘but I could imagine offering my services as a guide, if you’d want to.’

This time around there was no mistaking the cautious smile Enjolras received. It was hopeful and brought a sparkle to Grantaire’s eyes that Enjolras realised he liked to see. His face lightened up a little, the heaviness of his brow seemed to melt away.

‘You would do that? I’d be so glad to have you as a guide,’ Enjolras tried to channel something like gratefulness as the train wound its way through the peaceful seaside landscape.

The sea came into view, getting a few ‘ahs’ and ‘ohs’ from fellow travellers. Grantaire still grinned at him as he reached out and turned Enjolras’ head towards the window, holding him in place as they passed a particularly idyllic bay. Seagulls were wheeling over the deep blue-green water and lush grass was bent by the wind, bowing before them.

‘You should take a look at this,’ Grantaire’s soft voice seemed close enough to his ear that Enjolras felt the breath ghosting over his skin, ‘the sun doesn’t always shine when I come up here. Must be your gracious influence.’

Enjolras wanted to retort, turned around – and was redirected by Grantaire’s hand, ‘No, I am making you cherish this moment.’

The bay disappeared behind a dune and Enjolras felt the warm hand disappear from his neck, ‘Am I allowed to turn back around?’

‘You may,’ Grantaire’s eyes were sparkling as he faced him, ‘no, wait – look!’

He forced Enjolras’ head back around only for him to see the next bay coming into view.

‘That’s literally the same sea as before,’ Enjolras complained but Grantaire seemed only pleased with himself after he had made Enjolras stare out of the window for five minutes, ‘not too long now.’

The prospect of losing the gentle smile by his sight made Enjolras frown. He had enough time to think about how it made him seem childish and self-absorbed, before Grantaire nudged him in the ribs to distract him from the thought.

‘I promise I’ll show you the city, you’ll love it. Edinburgh was at the centre of so many important political processes and revolutions –‘

‘Revolutions?’ Enjolras’ interest peaked, he made to ask more about what Grantaire had mentioned, when he saw the other’s grin.

‘I had a feeling you might like that. Okay, I promise to lecture you on the numerous revolutions Edinburgh has seen; but I’m also going to show you some hidden and secret places, go sightseeing and stuff.’

Enjolras knew that his cheeks were bright red and he clung to every word Grantaire said but he could not care less. Something magical had happened in this very train carriage, even if he could not place his finger on it yet.

‘You know, a friend of mine told me about a cute little café,’ Grantaire’s voice had gone quiet, almost cautious, ‘it’s very small and cosy, very –‘

‘Cliché?’ Enjolras suggested.

‘Do you mean cliché enough to give us free coffees if we’re cute enough? Definitely,’ the tips of his ears went red.

They smiled at each other as the conductor announced their imminent arrival in Edinburgh, a quiet, content smile. The rustling of travellers gathering their belongings grew louder, a few voices could be heard and then a small head peaked over the seat in front of them. The sleeping boy with the sign around his neck had arisen. He looked down at them and Enjolras hoped his eyes were deceiving him when he recognised the judging, yet pleased look he gave them.

‘You guys are pathetic. Just knock your heads together and be done with it.’

Grantaire stiffened next to him, ‘Oi midget, you were in my seat!’

The boy shrugged, ‘You try pretending to be asleep whenever someone comes by because they could be the one who booked the seat your sitting on.’

With that he stuck his tongue out and disappeared. Grantaire jumped to his feet next to him, ready to go after him but Enjolras held him back, not able to hold back a chuckle.

‘Oh don’t do that,’ he laughed at Grantaire’s stern look and flared nostrils, ‘let him have a little fun. Got us to meet, didn’t it?’

‘You seem way too relaxed about this, you were so disgruntled when you actually had to tear your wall down,’ Grantaire huffed out a breath but sat back down, crossing his arm over his chest, ‘that impertinent brat –‘

Enjolras doubled over with laughter, hugging himself around the middle. His forehead hit the back of the seat in front of him and he had to wipe tears from his eyes in order to look up at Grantaire. His seatmate looked at him with wide eyes, the angry expression he had worn a moment ago gone. Instead, he seemed to follow every of Enjolras’ movements with careful attention.

‘What’s wrong?’ Enjolras caught his breath and sat back up, ‘Is something wrong?’

Grantaire shook his head, ‘No, it’s just – I could just eat you up.’

‘Pardon?’

Grantaire’s blush deepened, even though Enjolras had not thought it possible, ‘I could eat you up. There you go, I repeated it. You are the best thing that has happened to me in a long time.’

The train came to a halt and busier people than them got up to storm the doors.  Grantaire held out his hand for Enjolras who shoved his book into his messenger bag.

‘Where are you staying? I’ll get you there in no time. And then you’ll need my number, I suppose, it might come in handy.’

Enjolras beamed at him and slung the strap of his bag over his shoulder before taking Grantaire’s hand.

‘We should meet for breakfast tomorrow, don’t you think?’ he asked as they left the train and began pushing through the arriving and departing masses, towards the nearest entrance, onto Market Street.

The air was clear, the sun had not succeeded in making the city centre stuffy and hot.  The climb up the hill got them warm enough as they carried their bags up to the first gap between the trees lining the fences around the park in the middle of the old town. Grantaire set his case down and grinned at Enjolras who took in the sight of the busy life underneath them. The Scott-monument was surrounded by tourists but he had not expected anything less from it, the National Gallery was surrounded by a fairground and people moved around the different carousels and the Ferris wheel like ants crawling over their hill.

Enjolras felt the sun warm his face and loosen something inside him. A knot he had not noticed seemed to disappear from around his chest and he drank in everything he could see, hear and smell. Grantaire seemed like a sturdy piece of driftwood next to him, afloat in the crowded city but there and real for him to grasp and hold onto. More than that, he looked at him as if he bore a light on his shoulders that was only destined for his eyes. Enjolras liked the thought, it flattered him.

‘You know, what you said earlier, about wanting to eat me up,’ he started, bold against the anxiously hammering heart in his chest, almost making Grantaire jump as he lightly squeezed the hand he still held, ‘I don’t mind it.’

He had drawn, leaving any further reaction up to Grantaire.

The reaction followed immediately as Grantaire lifted his free hand and allowed it to follow the line of Enjolras’ jaw, ‘Thank you. I will gladly pick you up for breakfast tomorrow. We definitely need you to get acquainted with the city.’

Enjolras nodded, breathlessly, although a little disappointed as the hand dropped to his shoulder. Grantaire’s eyes, warm like the summer breeze toying with his hair, were still on him and judging by the glint in their corners, he was not likely to look away anytime soon.

‘Would you not agree that I should be allowed to taste what I may expect?’

It would have been the perfect first kiss, soft and warm, Grantaire cupping his face between his hands and Enjolras melting against him…if Enjolras had not snorted with laughter just as the kiss began to deepen.

‘Seriously? A taste of what you may expect? How about me still getting the remains of your fishy lunch?’

Grantaire rested his forehead against Enjolras’ and closed his eyes, wincing quietly and grabbing blindly for his hand, ‘Definitely not my proudest moment. Also, you make me nervous!’

‘I make you nervous? How about on the train, when your lunch almost made me –‘

Enjolras found himself unable to continue as Grantaire kissed him for the second time, even sweeter and softer than the first time had been, fish aside.


End file.
